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Family
by AMALIA COSTA (United Kingdom)
April 2020
We act like we're pleasantly thrust together instead of a family bound by grief and love.
by AILEEN BAK (Australia)
April 2021
As a Haenyeo, a Korean sea-woman, her day was just beginning, even before the sun rose in the bitter oceanic cold to ready herself to dive for her day's catch.
by TULA SINGER (Cuba)
April 2021
The embassy called and approved our request to leave the country. So we packed our clothes and a couple of other essentials, leaving the rest behind.
by KOBY CHEN (Canada)
April 2021
When my mother and father had left for the west, they brought few things with them.
by TUNA SAGDAN (Turkey)
April 2021
As a child, my relationship with my dad was very straightforward. I'd ask him for something and he'd say "yes" or "no."
by ARI (United States)
April 2021
In the jungles of Aklan stands a statue of a man I've never met.
Stands a monument to a face I've never seen.
by VIVIAN ZHI (Canada)
December 2020
My words can be a sense of comfort, a feeling of being understood, a thought, an awakening.
by ANNIE KIRKPATRICK (United States)
December 2020
Rice piled on my plate like a cold white ant bed. Mom adjusted her glasses again.
by ANYA WILSON (Ireland)
December 2020
When I arrive home, there are men outside our cottage. But these are not my dada's friends.
by TULA SINGER (Cuba)
August 2020
My mother came into the kitchen with a blank face. "We're leaving," she said. "We're going to move in with Ahmad in New York."
by OTTAVIA PALUCH (Canada)
August 2020
People evaporate.
But not as quickly as water.